


with you...

by startswithhope



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hotel Sex, M/M, Making Love, New York City, Post-Canon, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23862241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startswithhope/pseuds/startswithhope
Summary: David and Patrick travel to New York City for business...and pleasure.(honestly, I just wanted to find a way to let David love NYC again, or maybe for the first time, this time with Patrick by his side)
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 27
Kudos: 287





	with you...

There’s a sea of patchy clouds making it nearly impossible to see the skyline, but he thinks that maybe that’s for the best, that perhaps it will help tamp down this nervous anticipation that’s making his stomach begin to toss and turn. It’s been a long time since he’s seen this city. A long time since this city’s seen him. Honestly, he’s not entirely sure it ever really had.

His eyes flutter shut as Patrick’s hand covers his, his thumb, slightly calloused from his guitar strings, rough and perfect as it moves back and forth against David’s palm. David lets go of the inside of his lips from where he’d clamped down with his teeth, his tongue peeking out to wet the dryness as he releases a heavy sigh out his nose. 

“You okay?” Patrick’s voice is soft, his tone less questioning and more knowing, making David feel a little less nauseous. There was a time in his life where he thought he’d never find someone who truly understands him. Miraculously, he’s found two. More if he counts his family, which he should, because they do. Now they do.

Opening his eyes, he rolls his head towards his husband, his smile coming easy, a good sign, he thinks to himself.

“You’re making it okay.”

Patrick’s eyes go all soft as he leans in, his lips tasting of the airline’s cheap wine as he presses a lingering kiss to David’s mouth. David shivers, not just from the kiss, but from the fact that Patrick has done it in front of a plane full of passengers. Sure, back home, no one ever bats an eye at the affection they show one another, but this isn’t Schitt’s Creek, and they are still two men kissing on a plane. When Patrick pulls back enough to catch David’s gaze, there’s an unexpected glint of mischief there and David can’t hold back a small giggle.

“Happy with yourself, I see.”

“Happy with you.”

David’s eyes go skyward, but he’s dragging Patrick’s hand further into his lap and smiling at the ceiling of the plane. 

“I told you to stop saying things like that to me in public.”

“Sorry, David.”

But he’s not. They both know it. Just like how they both know that David absolutely does not want him to stop saying things like that to him in public. Like, ever.

As the plane descends toward the runway, David finds that the nervousness from a few minutes earlier has begun to be eclipsed by the confidence Patrick always manages to conjure up. New York City doesn’t seem so scary now, not with his husband’s fingers woven between his own and his well-loved heart beating steadily in his chest.

* * *

The showcase with the hotel owners went better than they could have even imagined. They’d been expecting to have a lot of orders placed, but with Stevie and his dad giving each franchise buying power for their own properties, nothing was guaranteed. But David had been charming and Patrick, he’d been...Patrick, crunching numbers and packaging deals, the two of them dancing well practiced steps until the last meeting was over and the contracts were piled high. 

If all of them pan out, they’ll actually be able to take a honeymoon this summer. He’d been bookmarking private resorts in the Maldives for months, just dreaming of watching Patrick’s pale skin pink up as they lie naked together in the sun, feet buried in the warm sand and lips swollen from tipsy kisses. 

“Okay, you’re right, this is the best pizza I’ve ever had.”

Shifting from wishful thinking to the present, David smiles over at Patrick’s side of their hotel bed. His husband is stripped down to just his boxers, holding a greasy paper plate in one hand and stuffing one last, very big, bite of pizza into his mouth. God, why is that so attractive?

“Told you, so. It’s the water or something.”

“It’s magic,” he mumbles through his mouthful of food.

His husband is adorable, but not when talking with his mouth full, so David looks away, smiling again for maybe the fiftieth time today. Shuffling off the bed, he finds his way to the bathroom, flinching a bit when the row of bulbs above the large mirror flash on overhead. As he washes the pizza grease from his hands, he finds himself spinning his wedding ring around his soapy finger as a warm flush rises up his neck and settles behind his cheeks.

Today was perfect. In one fell swoop, his memories of this city have been forever altered. Beyond the time spent in their investor’s conference room for their meetings, they’d walked hand in hand through Central Park (a small section of it, really just about a quarter mile), window shopped on some random street just a block or two from SoHo, and eventually popped into a pizza place and grabbed a few slices to go. Nothing pretentious. Well, maybe they did stop into Rent the Runway so David could get his hands on some designer clothes, and maybe try a few things on. But is that even really pretentious? Not compared to his old life here it isn’t.

Sure, one good day can’t erase the stark lines left behind from his past, but he always did appreciate how beautiful a splash of white can look atop a wash of black.

“Don’t turn the water off.”

Patrick slides in next to him, lightly hip checking him to make room at the sink. Sucking the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth, David turns and leans against the counter, staring at his husband as he dries his hands off with a hand towel. Patrick’s lips are curled up in a smile as he suds up his hands, his attention shifting from the sink up to his own reflection. David wonders what he sees there, if he only sees his flaws, or if maybe, he sees what David sees. 

He really hopes so. He should remind him that in David’s eyes, he doesn’t have any, well, not any that are deal breakers.

“I love you.”

David catches Patrick’s gaze shift from his reflection to David in the mirror, so he looks back, his stomach suddenly swirling with affection, attraction, desire, all the things, all at once.

“Love you, too, baby.”

His fingers grip hard at the countertop when he finds himself suddenly unsteady, Patrick’s endearment making him feel like he’s just taken a shot of very strong whiskey, the sharp burn warming him as it slides down his throat. Dropping the towel, he reaches out for Patrick, quickly curling his fingers around the back of his head as he takes his mouth in a needy kiss. He lets out a soft gasp when Patrick’s wet hands slide up his bare chest, but Patrick just takes that opportunity, sliding his tongue between David’s lips in an obvious move to take control. 

David gladly relinquishes it. Patrick doesn’t miss a beat.

Happy to be the one maneuvered against the wall, he’s suddenly breathless as Patrick’s fingers tangle with his and press the backs of his hands against the textured wallpaper. Held captive, he willingly succumbs to Patrick’s need to worship, focusing as hard as he can on staying standing as Patrick ventures down, wet lips barely grazing the skin of his throat until David feels the rough slide of his tongue against his nipple.

“Oh god…”

Patrick responds by closing his teeth around the sensitive peak and David’s hips surge forward on reflex, drawing a chuckle from Patrick’s mouth against his skin. His hands are freed from Patrick’s grip and he immediately moves to grab his head, his fingers sliding into his soft, too short hair as Patrick looks up at him as he maneuvers himself to his knees. In any other relationship, David might say something like “you don’t have to” or “you should let me”, but not with Patrick. Patrick loves this. Patrick loves him. 

Patrick loves watching his eyes darken as he slowly lowers his boxer briefs down over his ass, like he’s doing now. And David loves the smile Patrick always presses into the crease of his thigh, like he’s doing now.

“Patrick…” he gasps, his voice breathy and thick with emotion as his husband slowly dips his head to take the tip of him into his mouth. His eyes stay on David, which is a lot, but he doesn’t dare look away.

There’s no urgency in the way Patrick’s lavishing him, alternating from soft drags of his tongue to mind-numbingly slow sucks, and David’s sure his goal is to drive him to the edge of insanity. Just when David’s sure Patrick’s about to get serious, he’s pushing back to his feet, prompting David to grumble with frustration. But his protest is swallowed by Patrick's mouth against his as his hand wraps possessively around David’s aching cock trapped between them.

“Let’s get on the bed.”

“Oh...yes...okay...”

David’s eyes roll back in his head as Patrick gives him a hard squeeze before letting go to step backwards out of the bathroom. Somehow, David manages to remember to quickly grab the lube from his toiletry bag before he’s stumbling after his husband to join him on their king size hotel mattress. 

They end up rolling around and groping each other for a few minutes before either of them can really focus, but before too long, David finds himself on his back with Patrick’s mouth tonguing his cock as his fingers lovingly work him open, occasionally sinking deep to lightly tease his prostate. 

“I’m good, I’m good, get inside me before I come.”

He can hear the desperation in his own voice, but doesn’t care. 

Anticipation has the hair at the back of his neck standing on end as he watches Patrick maneuver himself between his legs and their eyes lock tight as he slowly sinks in, a low curse hissing from David’s lips as his body stretches and welcomes Patrick home. He reaches out blindly for his neck, dragging him down until his body feels almost folded in half, but he needs Patrick’s weight on him, needs his lips and his breath and the taste of his tongue. To his relief, he’s coming almost immediately, making their bodies slick and sticky as Patrick continues to fuck him into the mattress. His orgasm has taken over his whole body, making him tremble and contract the muscles around where Patrick is still buried deep, pulling a groan of pleasure from Patrick’s throat. 

“Fuck baby, fuck...so good.”

Patrick’s penchant for swearing during sex is something David luxuriates in, loving his loss of control and complete abandon to their shared moment. So, even though he’s already wrung out, he does his best to make him completely fall apart. He tugs at his hair and drags his mouth back to his lips, quickly sinking his tongue inside and stealing his breath. Patrick’s hips stutter once, twice, but then he’s collapsing into the cradle of David’s open legs, filling him with his heat as he rips his mouth free on a hoarse shout. David’s heart clenches when Patrick’s hands curl around his cheeks to then slide further down to cup the back of his head, holding him still so he can sink into a luxurious, toe-curling kiss. It’s the kind of kiss he’s still not quite used to processing, so full of emotion and unspoken words, silently communicating a deeper love than David ever imagined existed. Even in all the romantic comedies he devours, he’s never seen something in fiction that compares to what he feels with Patrick. 

David lets out a soft gasp into Patrick’s mouth when he feels him lift his hips enough to pull out, but he’s kissing him still, soft, sweet presses of lips so distracting David only barely notices the soreness left behind. The cramp in his thighs, however, is hard to ignore. 

“Need to stretch,” he mumbles against Patrick’s lips.

“I know. Let me get a washcloth.” Patrick kisses his cheek, and his chin, and his chest above his heart as he shuffles backwards towards the end of the bed.

“If you’re trying to make me cry, it won’t work.”

Except there’s already a tear threatening to escape the corner of his eye. And he’s sure his husband can see it.

“Mmmhhmm…”

His eyes fall to Patrick’s perfect ass as he walks towards the bathroom and he hopes Patrick realizes that their evening is far from over. There’s a favor or two he plans to return. Maybe in the shower. Their shower back home isn’t big enough, but this one is. And it has a built-in bench. 

Stretching out his legs, he suddenly realizes he’s laying on top of one of the hotel’s bathrobes. 

“Did you put this bathrobe down or was it already here?” he calls out.

Patrick’s smile when he reemerges from the bathroom gives David his answer.

“How was your brain functioning enough to think of that? My fingers could barely hold the lube without dropping it.”

The washcloth is warm against David’s belly where Patrick has begun to clean him from the side of the bed, his fingers pressing just enough to trigger a soft laugh from David’s lips.

“It’s just the way my brain works. I know you don’t like mess. And I knew I wanted to come inside you. So…”

“You know how much I love hearing you talk about sex like a business transaction. It’s really sexy.”

He’s not kidding. It really is.

“I have my laptop if we want to work on a spreadsheet…”

Patrick’s moved the washcloth between David’s legs, too intimate a moment for their current banter, and silence falls between them. David lets his eyes fall shut as the now cool towel runs along his skin, jolting slightly in surprise when soft lips brush the corner of his mouth. Lifting his chin, he smiles as Patrick’s lips find his again, and again, until the towel is abandoned and David’s pulling him back down onto the bed.

When he’s maneuvered Patrick beneath him, he leans his weight over to one elbow so he can reach out and run his fingertip across his husband’s kiss-swollen lower lip. He loves this lip. Has since the first moment they met. 

“You know, David,” Patrick whispers up at him, “I think I like New York City.” 

David smiles, but doesn’t respond right away, just letting himself get lost in the warm honey depths of Patrick’s eyes as his finger pushes down to just open Patrick’s mouth. Leaning down, he lets their noses brush, smiling when Patrick arches his neck in hopes of receiving a kiss.

“I like New York City with you.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But not as much as I like home.”

As expected, that declaration is met with a kiss, and a groan, and eventually a chance for David put his creative skills to use in that enormous shower. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. This quarantine has sucked up all of my time with work and stress, so finding time to write feels like a luxury. Hence why I might have gotten a bit carried away here. ;)


End file.
